


Prodigal Son, or, How It Should Have Ended

by spoidaz



Category: Persona 5
Genre: ....OR DOES IT?, Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship fixes everything, M/M, Multi, Nah it does, or does it?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoidaz/pseuds/spoidaz
Summary: It's two years after the destruction of the Metaverse, and the Phantom Thieves have settled into an easy rhythm with one another. But when a figure from their past returns to make amends, can the group open up and allow them in, or will they be left alone in the dark?





	1. Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I have ever published. Please, feel free to leave constructive criticism below. And either way, let me know what you think!

Akira’s eyes cracked open as the light from the morning sun fell across his bed. He shifted slightly, turning to his right, and saw Ryuji. Or, at least, he saw Ryuji from the neck down. The sun was apparently too much for him to bear and he’d tucked his head beneath a pillow. Akira smiled and poked his boyfriend in the side. He was rewarded with a groan and a half-hearted flailing hand.

He turned over to his left and saw Ann. He liked to think that he was one of the lucky few who got to see her first thing in the morning, before she’d had a chance to primp. As far as he was concerned, though, he’d never seen her more perfect than she was with bedhead, wearing Ryuji’s tank-top, and trying very, very hard to pretend she wasn’t awake.

“I know you’re up, Ann.” he said quietly. She began to snore. He laughed. Ann didn’t snore when she was actually sleeping. “You lost at Featherman All-Stars last night, and that means you have to cook breakfast. Those were the rules.”

She popped one eye open and pouted. “But I have two big, strong-”

“Not gonna work.” Ryuji mumbled, cutting her off.

Ann threw a pillow at him, which landed atop the one he had already buried his head under. “You’re no fun.”

“You heard him, twintails. Get to work! Chop chop!” Futaba piped up from the couch, giggling.

“Cram it, shortstack. I’m still convinced you cheated, somehow.” Ann shot back, blowing a raspberry at her.

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Ladies, please.” Akira cut in, pecking Ann on the cheek and hopping over her to land on the floor, catlike as ever. “I’ll cook.” 

He put on a shirt so he wasn’t clad in only pajama pants, ignoring the wolf-whistles behind him, and headed downstairs to the cafe to get started.

With Akira back visiting after his first year of college, Sojiro had figured it was finally time to take a well earned, much-needed vacation, his first real one in years. Akira and Futaba knew enough about the shop to run the place, with Haru and Yusuke coming by to help out when needed. He was flattered, honestly, that the old man trusted him with the place. They’d certainly come a long way from that first car ride, years ago. Sojiro had gone from gruff and distrustful to more of a father figure than Akira had ever hoped to have. 

Things were tense when he returned home from Tokyo to finish his third year of high school, and we was glad he didn’t have to be there anymore. He knew his parents felt guilty for abandoning him to his fate, but they didn’t apologize, refusing, as always, to see their son as an equal. Once upon a time, that probably would have bothered Akira, but after the things he had seen as leader of the Phantom Thieves, it was pretty hard to throw him for a loop.

He turned on the stove and grabbed a carton of eggs from the fridge, cracking them into a bowl and whisking them around, before pouring the whole mix into a pan with some salt and pepper. With some trouble, he managed to locate a box of instant pancake mix that looked like it probably hadn’t expired, and set to work on making some of those as well. He only looked up when he heard a light thump on the counter. 

Sure enough, Morgana was laying there, watching him.

“You really should have let Lady Ann have the bed to herself, you know. She deserves better than to be stuck with you two smelly guys,” he said, his tone light.

“Yeah, well,” Akira replied, “She’s the one who made us scoot over because-” he raised his voice, here, “- a certain gremlin kicked her off the couch!”

He heard a couple giggles from upstairs before Futaba yelled back, half-whining, “I didn’t want to walk all the way back home!”

Morgana laughed along, and stood up, pawing across the counter. “Whatcha cookin’, Joker?” he asked, looking down into the pan.

“Not for kitties.” Akira halfheartedly swiped a spoon at Mona, who dodged it without much trouble. Mona pouted.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it…” he sulked. Akira huffed and scooped some of the finished eggs into a small bowl and slid it Morgana’s way. 

“Just don’t eat too much of it. I’m not sure if cats can have eggs…” Akira mused.

He turned back to the pancakes and pulled the first finished set off the griddle, then poured down some more batter. “Where did you go last night, anyways?” he asked. They’d installed a cat-flap on the back door so Morgana could come and go as he pleased. Though he’d never admit it, Sojiro considered Morgana a member of the family just as much as Akira.

“I spent the night with Haru and Yusuke. Better than wandering around here and watching you all smooch on each other.”

“So you watched Haru and Yusuke smooch each other instead?” Akira asked playfully.  
“No, actually. Yusuke finally convinced Haru to model for him. She ended up falling asleep on his bed, and he fell asleep at the easel. I think summer classes are a little much for them.” he replied.

Akira hummed thoughtfully. He should do something special for those two and Makoto. They were working themselves half to death with summer classes, and even though he’d only been back for a couple weeks, he could tell it was wearing on all three of them. But between Haru needing to hurry along her degree to help run her company, Makoto feeling like she was living in Sae’s shadow, and Yusuke being....Yusuke, he knew that telling them to take a break was out of the question.

Akira removed another set of pancakes from the griddle, lost in thought. Even though the Phantom Thieves weren’t active anymore, he couldn’t help but feel like the leader, like it was his job to take care of them. That was somehow a lot easier inside the Metaverse than out here in normal day-to-day life. Sometimes it didn’t quite feel fair that they’d more or less saved the world, and yet nobody knew it. Customers were still rude, the subway was still crowded, he still had to go to college and get a degree. It was hard not to feel a little resentful sometimes.

He was so lost in thought, in fact, that he didn’t notice Ryuji sliding up behind him and slinging his arm around his shoulder.

“Morning bro.” Ryuji said, giving him a squeeze. “You good? You looked like you were thinkin’ again.”

“Yeah, I’ve been known to do that sometimes.” Akira retorted. “Morning babe. Did you sleep good?” he asked, reaching up and ruffling the blonde’s hair. Ryuji stuck out his tongue.

“Miss me with that gay shit. Babe?” he said, snorting.

“Ryuji, you’re literally a man, who is dating me, also a man. You are that gay shit.”

“You got me there.” Ryuji slipped away and sat down at the counter, and was followed shortly after by Futaba and Ann, who had gotten dressed in their clothes from the day before. Ryuji was still shirtless.

“That smells good!” Ann said, inhaling deeply. 

Akira looked at her pointedly. “I have half a mind not to give you any, miss ‘I’m too cute and delicate to get out of bed.’ You only act cute and delicate when you want me or Ryuji to do something for you. I’ve seen you handle a rifle.’”

Ann pouted. Akira sighed.

“Fine, but you owe me one-” he held up a finger for emphasis “-favor of my choosing.”

“Deal.” Ann replied, grabbing a bowl and leaning over the counter to start scooping eggs and pancakes onto her plate. Akira rolled his eyes, and began to dole some out for Futaba, Ryuji, and himself. “You know, I’ve had about enough of all of you pouting at me to get what you want.”

“Not while it still works.” said Morgana through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Everyone laughed but Akira, who leaned back against a support pillar and tucked into his own breakfast. Before he could get far though, there was a knock at the front door. Akira had drawn the blinds across the glass and was therefore unable to see who was there, but he figured it had to be a customer. He looked to his friends. They all seemed too busy eating to do anything about it, so he sat his plate down and went to go check.

“I’m sorry, we don’t open until n-” he began as he opened the door and stuck his head through the crack. He went silent though, when he realized who was on the other side.

“Hello. I think we need to talk.” said an uncharacteristically sheepish and nervous looking Goro Akechi. “May I come in?”


	2. Da Capo al Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. Please do not take this to be the regular pace at which I will write this fanfic, because I'm currently on vacation and have much more freetime than usual.

Akechi’s eyes cracked open as the light from the morning sun fell across his bed. He shifted slightly, turning to his right, and saw his phone vibrating gently on the nightstand. Goro sighed, picking it up and silencing the alarm that woke him promptly at nine, every morning. That was all that graced his phone screen, though. He hadn’t gotten a text message or phone call that wasn’t a telemarketer in the last two years.

Despite his recent...rough patch, Akechi was, at heart, a creature of habit. He swung his feet down out of bed and padded across his bedroom floor to his stereo system, turning it on. The radio was nice. He kept it on talk shows, usually, and it made him feel a little bit less alone. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

After that, he stepped into the bathroom of his small studio apartment and took off his nightclothes, hanging them on the door behind him, and turned on the shower. He didn’t need to work to find the perfect temperature. On one of his more boring days, he’d taken a permanent marker and marked off a small notch where the water felt best, and now all he had to do was turn it there.

While he let the warm water cascade over his body, he went over his plans for the day in his head. Nine was time to wake up, and he was to shower and be dressed by ten. At ten, he would make himself breakfast, maybe something new today. He’d found a recipe for an omelette online that he had been wanting to try.

At eleven, he would put on his helmet and go for a bike ride. He wasn’t particularly against being seen in public. His death had never been faked, like Akira’s, so he hadn’t ever needed to hide. The most anybody ever did was ask, “Aren’t you that detective from television?” at which point he would answer that yes, he was, and he was taking some personal time to reflect on his career. Most people were satisfied with that answer. He had yet to run into the Phantom Thieves or their allies, but that wasn’t too surprising. Tokyo was a big place. 

At twelve-thirty, he’d return home and take another quick shower to wash off the sweat from the bike ride. As much as he enjoyed biking, he always felt filthy when he was done. Then he’d go shopping at the small, independent grocery around the corner. People knew him, there, but they had stopped asking questions by now. There was a nice cashier there named Takumi. He was, maybe, the closest thing Goro Akechi had to a friend.

At two, he would have a small lunch and watch some television, and perhaps clean his apartment or read for a little while, and then around six, it’d be time to make and eat dinner with the groceries he’d purchased earlier. He rarely bought more than he would need for one or two nights. It gave him an excuse to go out.

After dinner, around seven, he would do some laundry and spend some time browsing the internet, then around ten go to bed, probably falling asleep around eleven or midnight. So it was, most days. Every day, if he was being honest with himself.  
Goro Akechi was living quite stably with the money he had embezzled from Masayoshi Shido during their time working together, and had no real need to work. So for the past two years, this had been his routine. But as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair and watched the rivulets of water run down the glass walls of the shower stall, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness. Ennui, even. He longed to do something else, something with another person. But he couldn’t risk getting close to anyone. He wasn’t even completely sure how to. The only people who could come close to understanding were….

No. He shook his head to clear the thought. They weren’t an option. Even if he did go to the Phantom Thieves, even if he explained himself, they didn’t owe him anything. They trusted him once, and he almost, for a moment, felt like he had real relationships, people who actually cared about him. He had been far from caring himself, of course. He wouldn’t let himself get attached, knowing what he had to do. How he had to betray them. He tried to make up for it, in the end, saving them from the cognitive version of himself. And he’d even gotten away in the end. He was wounded, almost dead, but he’d gotten away. He watched the Thieves triumph over Shido, he watched Yaldabaoth fuse their world and Mementos, and as much as he had wanted to go to the aid of the Thieves, he knew they wouldn’t have him. If anything, they’d shoot first, and ask questions later.

Akechi shut off the water and grabbed his towel, drying himself off and leaving the room. He put on athletic shorts and a loose tee shirt, his preferred workout clothes, and headed to the kitchen to take care of breakfast.

He had his sins to atone for, he thought to himself as he began to chop up the ingredients for his omelet. He hurt a lot of people, and he justified it to himself by saying it was all to bring down Shido. Akechi had to play along, he had to do as Shido said, help him get all the way to the top and obtain the biggest audience possible before bringing him down. He’d change Shido’s heart, make him confess all his crimes, and then kill him. That would bring him peace, and it would save a lot more innocent people than he had to kill to get there. 

Akechi heated up the stove and placed a pan atop it, mixing the precisely measured omelet ingredients together in a bowl then pouring them in.

Goro wasn’t entirely sure how he would go about atonement, though. He had already sent massive, anonymous cash donations to the families of his victims, but blood money still didn’t make the nagging go away. 

He slid his spatula beneath the omelet, quick and sharp, making sure none was left stuck to the pan, and flipped it. Perfect, as usual. He allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile. Not a lot brought him happiness these days, but cooking could, occasionally, make him feel a little more content. He thought about that for a moment as the other side cooked. Perhaps he could learn a little more and do so professionally. That would certainly be something. Could his cooking even rival Akira’s? Maybe, if he worked at it.

As he sat down at the table and slowly, methodically, ate his omelet, he thought about them. The Phantom Thieves were the only ones who would even understand. They were the only ones who would believe he had done the things he had done. And so, he began to consider, they were the only ones who could properly pass judgement. If they chose to beat him on the spot....or worse, that would be justified. The more Akechi thought about it though, between bites, the more he considered that they wouldn’t. While they hadn’t gotten to know him all that well in the time they worked together, he had gotten to know them. He knew they would at least hear him out. 

His life, after Shido was gone, lacked purpose or direction. Everything he had done was in service to that end. He didn’t really expect to survive, if he was being honest with himself. He was living on borrowed time at this point and so, after taking his dishes to the sink and washing them off, he locked up his apartment and stepped out the door, feeling determined for the first time in years. Heading downstairs, he fetched his bike from the rack by the door and brought it outside.

Akechi hopped on and rode, this time with definite purpose. He might not know what the Thieves were up to these days, but he knew he could find them at Leblanc. And so when, forty five minutes later, he found himself standing in the Yongen Jaya backstreets in front of the cafe where he had previously spent so much time, he wasn’t surprised to hear laughter from inside. It made his heart ache for something he didn’t quite understand.

Trembling slightly, he raised his fist and rapped on the door. There was a moment of silence, followed by padding footsteps toward the door. It creaked open and he was shocked, just for a moment, to see Akira’s head poke out of a crack in the doorway. 

“I’m sorry, we don’t open until n-” he began, stopping short when he locked eyes with Akechi.

“Hello. I think we need to talk.” Akechi replied, voice uneven. “May I come in?”


	3. Unison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I finally graduated college and now I have some time to come back to this.  
> Please don't hate me, I did my best. <3

There was an uncomfortable pause. Akira looked the other man up and down for a moment. Akechi looked different than he remembered. He’d seen the other man at his absolute worst, broken from his abuse at the hands of Masayoshi Shido and near-mad with a need to prove himself to be the superior Wild Card over Akira and his friends, to prove his methods were the only way. Yet somehow, Goro Akechi looked worse than he’d even seen. When they knew each other two years ago, Akechi had at least looked healthy. It was a ruse, of course, a maintained public appearance to keep people off his trail, but it was a convincing one.

Now, though, he looked...haggard. His eyes were sunken ever so slightly, and he had a thin layer of scruff on his face, as though he hadn’t cared enough to shave often. Although he was still very clearly physically fit, there was something missing that Akira had never even noticed the presence of before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly what it was. 

He thought back to that fateful day aboard the cruise ship in the Metaverse. He thought about how, with his last few moments, Goro Akechi had saved the Thieves, damning himself, or so Akira and his companions had thought at the time. Yet here he was, standing before him on his doorstep.

Akira closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was going to be a problem. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to turn Akechi away.

And so he stepped aside and swung the door wide, without a word. He nodded, quickly, sharply, and took a step back.

“We have a guest, everyone.” he called, turning around and gesturing at Goro.

The light, playful conversation that had suffused the room came to a halt and silence fell. Everyone seemed to be trying to contend with the sight in front of them, reconciling his continued existence with what they thought they knew. Akira, for his part, gave them time. He needed some as well.

Akechi cleared his throat and tried to stand up straighter. He hadn’t, if he was being honest with himself, expected to get this far. He wasn’t sure what exactly he had expected, perhaps that the shop would be closed, or Akira wouldn’t be there, or he would have been turned away or attacked. In a way, that would have been easier.

He looked to Futaba, who seemed to sit with more confidence than he had seen before. She no longer cowered behind a friend at confrontation. No, rather, she met Akechi’s eye and stared him down. Her genius mind was surely working right now, evaluating him, deciding whether or not he was a threat. She broke eye contact briefly to look at Akira. He shrugged. She looked back to the door, then to Akechi. After a moment, her face softened, though she remained silent.

Ann, for her part, had dropped her fork, letting it clatter to the floor beneath the bar. She sat frozen, processing what she was seeing.

In the end, it was Ryuji who broke the silence, as Ryuji often did.

“What the fuck, dude?”

Akechi was startled. He was startled even more when Ryuji hopped off his stool at the bar and began walking toward him, a familiar cold fire burning in his eyes. Sakamoto raised a clenched fist and the detective closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

He heard skin collide with skin, and flinched, but opened his eyes slowly when he realized Ryuji hadn’t hit him. Akira’s hand was extended about six inches in front of his face, having caught the inbound fist. He let go, and the blonde’s arm fell to his side. Then Ryuji turned to his leader.

“You just let him walk right in? After...after all of that?”, he demanded.

“Ryuji. Easy. If you remember, he did save our lives.”

“Yeah, after he-”

“Ryuji. Enough.”

Silence fell over the room for another moment, before Akechi spoke up.

“I should start by saying, I apologize. Truly. Although nothing I say can undo what I did. I understand that.”

He scanned the room, looking for any sign of Haru. He had hurt her the most of anyone, and he didn’t know that he was ready to confront that yet. He didn’t see her, and so he continued.

“But you’re the only people in the world who understand what really happened that year. You, and the other Thieves, and me. Even Sakura-san doesn’t know the whole story. Nor does Nijima-san. And I just...couldn’t, anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending it all never happened. I couldn’t keep being alone.”

He looked to each of the other people in the room.  
“When I knew you, briefly, back then, I felt something. I wasn’t honest with myself. I didn’t know...how to express it, and I pushed it down because I knew I couldn’t get attached. Not with what I knew I was going to do. I didn’t understand. I still don’t know if I do. I’ve been living every day the last two years, though, waiting for the other shoe to drop. For one of you to see me, or get curious enough to look for me, or for one of your allies to find out I was still here. But nothing ever happened. Nothing came. And I’m tired of it. So, here I am. I am…”

Here, he paused, unsure of what to say. Why was he here? What was he hoping to achieve? He felt as though he had to come, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted. His next words were slow, deliberate, as though he was still finding the right ones himself.

“I am here to throw myself on your mercy. If you want me to go, that’s fine. I’ll turn around and walk out the door and you’ll never see me again. If you want to call the police and turn me in, I understand. There’s precedent now. Prosecutor Nijima knows most of the truth of the Metaverse. But…”

Akechi took a deep breath, finding his eyes to be watery. He’d never cried in front of someone before.

“If you can find it in your hearts, can we...talk? Would you give me the chance to atone? I want to try to make things as right as I can. I was wrong, before. I know that now. But I’ve been by myself for so long and you all were the closest I ever had to friends and I don’t know where to start. My whole life was about getting revenge on Shido and now that he’s finally got what’s coming to him, I don’t know what to do with it.”

This time, Futaba was the first to speak, and she did so quietly.

“Yeah. Okay.”

He blinked.

“Come again?”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you. I can’t speak for everyone else-”

She broke off and looked around the room.

“-but I have some...uh...stuff? I need to work out. And I think you...maybe...can help with that. I still don’t forgive you!” she added, hastily. “You did a lot of nasty stuff. But if you can have the guts to show up here, that means something, right?”

Akira smiled at her softly. She’d come a long way in the last couple of years, and to not only speak to Akechi, but to be the first to, was something that still managed to surprise him. In truth, he felt similarly. The relationship he and Akechi had before the ill-fated Casino heist had been mostly a put-on, of course, but he had felt something there, some core of sincerity. And even if it was only to satisfy his own curiosity, he had to investigate. 

Ryuji had settled down and after a moment, he nodded as well. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll hear what you have to say. But I reserve the right to bust your effin’ jaw if I don’t like it.”

Akechi swallowed, and inclined his head appreciatively in Ryuji’s direction.

Suddenly, all eyes were on Ann, who had remained silent through this whole exchange. She chewed her lip, nervously, her breakfast all but forgotten. “I...don’t like this.” she finally said. “I don’t think this is a good idea. But if you all are willing-”

“Ann. We make decisions together. As a team. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can say so,” Akira cut in.

Akechi watched the two of them with interest. He stayed quiet though, knowing it wasn’t really his place to speak.

“No, it’s okay. I trust you, Akira. And Ryuji. And Futaba. If you think it’s a good idea, then okay.” She looked up at Akechi. “But I have my eye on you. You better not screw this up.”

“I understand. What about...wait. Where’s Morgana?” he asked, curious. “I saw him when I came in.”

Akira looked around, just realizing the cat was nowhere to be found. Their questions were answered, though, when the door opened once more. This time, there was no knock. Which meant the person on the other side had a key. Which meant-

“Akechi-kun!” Haru exclaimed, surprised, before her eyes narrowed and she reached for a weapon that wasn’t there, reflexively. Yusuke, ever stoic, put a hand gently on her shoulder, and she relaxed slightly, but still looked ready for a fight. Morgana, from Yusuke’s shoulder, chimed in.

“We’re a team. It was only fair they should be a part of this discussion. Makoto’s on her way. You should have called them already.”

Akira shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He knew that, but he didn’t think it would be a good idea for Haru and Akechi to meet face to face yet. Not after what happened to her father. But there was nothing to do but make the best of it now, and Akira, if nothing else, would always land on his feet.

“Akechi, you should probably go. We’ll...call you. Later. I think we should probably do this one at a time. Everyone needs some time to process this.”

After a moment of hesitation, Goro nodded, pulling a small notepad and pencil from his pocket. “Here’s my cell number. If you’re sure, just...give me a call. I’ll be waiting. Thank you for your time.”

He hurried from the room and closed the door behind him, brushing past Haru and Yusuke, who looked too shocked to register his passing.

Joker looked at Haru. He had no idea what she might be feeling right now. He really had no idea what to even ask. So as her composure began to break and she moved away from the doorway to sit on the edge of a table, he went to her and pulled her into an embrace, holding tight. 

Another silence settled over the room. This time, though, it was less comfortable. 

For two years, despite everyone moving around Japan and making progress in their own lives independent of each other, nothing had actually changed all that much. Their dynamic had remained more or less the same as it had been that fateful Christmas day. Now, with Goro Akechi alive and suddenly back in the picture, he wasn’t so sure it would stay that way. And whether that was good or bad, he really couldn’t say. Akira sighed and pulled away from Haru.

“Okay team. What now?” he asked, sounding a whole lot more confident than he felt.


	4. Forte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've finally settled into a groove with my new job, so hopefully updates will come a little more frequently. I'm so happy for all the kudos and I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to comment. Whether with compliments or criticism, I love any kind of response.

It was eventually decided that Goro Akechi would spend a day with each of the former Phantom Thieves. To everyone’s surprise, Ryuji volunteered to go first, that very same afternoon. Akira was cautious, given Ryuji’s initial reaction, but relented when he explained himself.

“If he can hang with me for the day and still wanna do this, maybe I’ll believe he wants something different. I’m not gonna go easy on him.”

Akira raised an eyebrow, skeptically.

“...I’m not gonna beat his ass, either.”

The eyebrow remained raised.

“...much.”

The eyebrow lowered.

 

***

Sakamoto’s fist collided with Akechi’s stomach. It knocked the wind out of him and sent him sailing to the mat, where he hit a little harder than he expected. True, he’d done his fair share of training when he was a detective, and when he was traipsing through the Metaverse, he hadn’t been able to do so completely unaccosted. But it had been a while, and his body wasn’t quite as tuned to combat as it had once been.

Ryuji snorted and extended an arm down to him, the mens’ boxing gloves making it difficult to find purchase, but the blonde eventually managed to haul Akechi to his feet.

“Dude, you suck,” Ryuji said, laughing lightly. “Are you just like..one of those people who gets off on being hit?”

“A...masochist?” Akechi asked, when he’d recovered.

“I don’t care about eye makeup.”

“Eye makeup? No, that’s mascar- _augh!_ ” he grunted as he took a strong right hook to the chest.

“Come on, you’re making me feel bad!”

Ryuji easily blocked the next couple of swings that came in his way. They were telegraphed, hard, and he’d been training with Makoto on the weekends, when he could convince her to take a break from her homework. He still couldn’t run, but he wanted to stay fit, and she had offered to teach him. It was also really, really great when he had to work through some stuff. Better to smack a bag around than some asshole on the street, he figured. He popped the other man a couple of times, lightly, in the face.

“You gotta keep your guard up man!”

Akechi was beginning to get frustrated, and more than a little battered. He had begun to question whether this was all worth it. Did Ryuji actually care, or did he just want an excuse to beat on him? Not that he didn’t understand where he was coming from, but it hardly seemed productive. He swiped at Ryuji a few more times, who easily dodged before knocking Akechi flat on his back, yet again. He didn’t extend a hand this time, and the former detective took a moment to breathe and reorient. His face was bruised, he was pretty sure, and his torso was worse. He might end up with a black eye in the morning. He was tired.

“Sakamoto, I don’t think I can-” he began as he stood, before being clocked yet again.

“What are you doing? Were you always this much of a pushover?” Ryuji asked, sounding more angry than playful this time. “Stop feeling so effin’ sorry for yourself and do something about it!”, he snapped, almost yelling. Bystander heads turned to regard the both of them.

It clicked, suddenly. Ryuji wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed sitting down and discussing. He didn’t work through his emotions that way. He’d seen it in the way the man acted with his friends, and with his enemies. And if Goro Akechi wanted his respect? If he wanted Ryuji to engage? He’d have to meet him on his terms. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” he said, trying to sound cockier than he felt.

“Better.” the blonde replied.

The next few minutes were a blur. Akechi had never been formally trained as a boxer, nor did he have much experience with martial arts, but he’d fought plenty, and found that the skills transferred more than one might expect.

Ryuji hit hard, but he was slow. Akechi lacked physical force, but he was fast. Where before, Ryuji had been using Akechi’s back to clean the mat, he was now finding it hard to land a hit, and Akechi was mixing him up more than he’d ever seen a newbie do. It was enough to get his blood pumping, and he grinned as he realized the jackass had finally picked up on what he was trying to say.

Their fight still resembled, in some superficial sense, a boxing match, but there was more to it now, something raw and passionate. Ryuji looked at Akechi and saw, in his furrowed brow and cocky smirk, the person who had made his life hell a couple years ago, yeah, but he also started to understand where Akechi was coming from. There was a guy, born in a shitty situation, who did shitty things, but who was willing to risk everything he had left for a chance to do better, and he respected that, begrudgingly, even if the guy was a condescending prick.

Akechi saw Ryuji in a new light, too. He wasn’t just an impulsive meathead. He was someone who, just like him, had to struggle to be heard and seen and had been slapped down more than once for trying. He saw someone society had told that they were worthless, that they would never amount to anything, they were a burden. Ryuji was angry, but he had a right to be. He was hotheaded, but it was because he needed to be heard. And he realized why he’d resented Ryuji so much. They’d both been thrown aside like trash, but someone had picked Ryuji up.

The revelation hit him like a punch in the gut, moments before he was hit by an actual punch in the gut and sent reeling against the ropes of the ring. He sucked wind for a moment, before holding up a hand in surrender, completely spent.

Ryuji, at the signal, took an unsteady step back and leaned against one of the posts for support. He hadn’t noticed just how many hits Akechi had landed, and now that the adrenaline in his system was starting to sputter out, he realized his entire torso was sore and battered, and upon tasting blood, he realized his lip was split.

Akechi was sure he looked even worse, but he couldn’t hear or feel anything other than his heart pounding in his chest and in his ears. He hadn’t fought like that since...back then, he realized. But despite his battered state, he felt good, and it was more than the endorphin rush of a workout. There was...something there. An understanding.

He looked up, meeting Ryuji’s gaze. Akechi let out an unsteady chuckle. “How was that?” he asked, finding that speaking was harder than he expected.

Ryuji took a second to compose himself before standing up straight and crossing the ring. He pulled off his gloves as he walked, tossing them aside. He stopped a couple feet shy of Akechi, and the brunette closed his eyes and flinched as he saw the other man's hand come up, but, for the second time in one day, he didn’t get punched in the face.

The hand landed on his shoulder, grasping tightly, and he opened his eyes.

Sakamoto was standing there, looking him in the eye, like he was searching for something. Evidently, he found it, because his face softened and he said, almost too quietly for Akechi to hear:

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Why okay?”, he asked, confused.

“I had to make sure you weren’t fuckin’ with me.”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

Ryuji shook his head.

“Sometimes you just know.”

“And now you know?"

“Yeah.”

“So what comes next?”, Akechi shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, as he asked.

“We should get showered.”

“Well. Obviously.”

“Then we’re going out for a beef bowl.”

“A...beef bowl?”

Ryuji grinned. “You’re buying, on account of how I kicked your ass.”

“And...then what?”, he asked, still unsure.

“I guess we should talk about some shit. I’m really more worried about the beef bowl, though.”

They both paused.

“...Okay. I’ll buy. But I’m disputing that I’m the only one with a kicked ass.”

***

_Fearless Leader, 9:01p: “So, how did it go?”_

_Twintails, 9:02p: “Yeah, don’t leave us hanging, dork.”_

_Fearless Leader, 9:02p: “I bet he’s “””fraternizing””” with the enemy.”_

_Twintails, 9:03p: “Nasty.”_

_Not Gay, 9:10p: “Fck off.”_

_Not Gay, 9:10p: “Guy can’t box fr tho”_

_Fearless Leader, 9:11p: “I told you not to beat his ass.”_

_Not Gay, 9:12p: Sent an image_

_Not Gay, 9:13p: “Slippery fucker fights dirty”_

_Twintails, 9:14p: “Lmao you ate shit dude.”_

_Not Gay, 9:15p: “He looks worse”_

_Fearless Leader, 9:16p: “Aww, poor baby. You need me to come kiss it better? :*”_

_Not Gay, 9:17p: “Gay.”_

_Not Gay, 9:20p: “...Yes”_

 


End file.
